‘And that time they were jumping on our bed, and Bekki fell off and bruised her shoulder, and when you took her home, Ruth went ballistic, called you an irresponsible parent? Even though you’d told them to stop? And Bekki wasn’t even hurt really. It was just a very small bruise.’
‘It’s called being a good mother,’ Pammie raps out. ‘She was right, I should have hauled them out of there and not just told them to stop. That bed’s really high. Bekki wasn’t badly hurt, no, but she could have been.’
I’m pissing myself. ‘Okay, let’s no have a domestic here, let’s keep it civil in front of the bairn, aye? What else was “weird” about the bint Ruth?’
Hubby’s practically got his hand in the air. ‘She never wanted her photo taken. She didn’t even have a passport – we had this idea of the two families going on holiday to France, but we couldn’t because Ruth didn’t have a passport and for some reason was resistant to getting one. Alec used to joke it was because she didn’t want to get a photo from one of those booths – at least I assumed he was joking, but maybe that really was the reason.’
I eyeball Pammie. ‘Right hen. Now you’re gonnae tell us all about your weird best pal Ruth. You’re gonnae tell us what she likes and what she doesnae. You’re gonnae tell us about her friends and family and where she said she always wanted to go and bide. We need to know all this shite, cos that mad bitch has got our wee lassie. Bekki’s our wee lassie, see? And if we dinnae get her back, we’re gonnae be coming for your wee lassie. Wee Emma here. That’s a fucking promise.’
‘Mum!’ goes wee Emma. ‘They can’t get Bekki! Don’t tell them anything!’
‘It’s all right, Emma. We don’t know anything to tell, do we? We don’t know where Bekki and her mum and dad are.’
‘I know, but maybe their family…’
‘Ruth’s parents are dead,’ goes Pammie. ‘She doesn’t have any siblings or cousins. She used to be a nurse, but she gave that up when they adopted Bekki. She worked in Glasgow Royal Infirmary. She’s still in touch – or was in touch – with a couple of the other nurses, Donna and Claire… I don’t know their surnames. They used to meet up for lunch in town and go shopping.’
‘Mum! Stop it!’ goes the bairn, and she’s greeting, the poor wee sweetheart.
I bounce her on my knee and go, ‘Now now hen.’ She tries to wriggle off but I’ve got my arms round her.
Pammie goes, ‘Shoosh, darling, shoosh, it’s all right. It’s going to be all right.’ She reaches for her bairn and grabs wee Emma’s hand.
Jed’s lunging, but I goes, ‘Beat it you!’ and he backs off.
‘These bints still work at the Infirmary, aye?’
‘Claire does.’
‘Right. And who else?’
She’s stroking wee Emma’s hand and smiling at the bairn. ‘Ruth didn’t have many friends… There’s Laura, who’s got a son in Bekki’s class. They live in one of the cottages at Hinksfield… But… I think I was her only close friend. Or I thought I was.’
‘Aye, so what else “weird” is there about her?’
She takes a big breath. ‘Well. When I – we were in a café one day and I said I’m so lucky to have a friend like you or something like that, You’re such a lovely friend, and Ruth just stared at me, and then she said No I’m not! You don’t know anything about me! and got up and ran off to the loos. I guess that was weird. When she came back to the table, she said she was feeling bad about shouting at me that time Bekki fell off the bed, but I don’t know if that was really it, or if…’
‘There was something off about the bitch.’
‘No! All I’m saying is that she was secretive about her past. So I can’t tell you anything much about it. I really can’t. I really didn’t know much about her.’
‘You must be able to think of something,’ goes hubby.
‘Jesus Chutney!’ I chuckle. ‘You’ve got a real diamond there, hen, eh? But aye, you must be able to think of something. Starting with where you think they’d go.’
‘Italy,’ goes hubby. ‘Alec spent a summer in Italy when he was a student, and Ruth always fantasised about a villa on the Amalfi coast. Didn’t she? Pam?’
Pammie nods.
‘She doesn’t have a fucking passport,’ goes Ryan.
‘Maybe she’s got one now.’
Aye, fuck it.
‘And what all else? What about when she was living in St Andrews? What all’s she told you about that?’
‘I’m lightin’ it,’ goes Jed.
We’re in a KFC on the way back to our bit. I’m on the low-cal ginger and a chicken wrap – fucking diet. The boys have both got Big Daddy Box Meals and Jed’s got a Zinger and fries.
I’m in his face. ‘You light it and what’s there for them to fucking sell? A burned-out fucking ruin?’
‘Aye Da,’ says Travis. He’s got a plaster on his hand and he keeps rubbing his finger on it. Getting bit by a wee lassie? He’s no a happy bunny.
‘You’re back planning, aye?’ goes Jed.
‘Aye, so shut it.’
Ryan gets up for another Coke. He’s in his Armani and among all the wee neds he sticks out like a Rolex on a scabby dug. Folk look at him as he walks by. All the wee hairies going Gies a slice o’ that.
When he gets back, I says, ‘Right yous, listen up.’
‘Is it a belter, aye?’ goes Jed.
‘Shut it. This is what we do, right? We don’t do nothing.’
‘Here we go.’ And Jed puts on the daft voice that he thinks is him talking posh: ‘Why – am – I – not – surprised?’
‘We wait till that wee house goes for sale. We make like we’re maybe gonnae buy it. We get the Home Report sent us, to an email address Connor will set up that’s no traceable. We get them thinking we’re that interested in buying. But we’ve a shitload of questions and the estate agent cannae answer them so we’re like that: Gonnae gie us the seller’s details so we can ask them about the septic tank.’
I lean back and pick a bit chicken out the wrap.
‘But Maw,’ goes Ryan. ‘Even their best pals havenae a fucking clue where they’re at. Are the bastards gonnae give the estate agent their details so they can get them scammed out them? That’s no happening. They’ll have done it all through their fucking brief.’
‘Aye, it’s a long shot, son. But in the meantime we check out they places, eh? Perth. Torridon. Fucking Amalfi, wherever the fuck that is. Fucking Australia if we have to.’ I bite the chicken. ‘First up, Torridon. Teuchterland Central – they’d think they’re safe enough there, eh? But we dinnae go in all confrontational. Me and Mandy’ll hire a shite wee car, one of they new Fiats maybe, and go and book in a B&B. We’re there because our pal Pippa Morrison telt us all about it and we thought it sounded right bonnie, and where are the Morrisons living at now so we can go and say hello to Pippa’s folks?’
Travis is eating with his gob open, and when he goes ‘Fucking belter!’ a bit chip falls out onto his Rangers top and then it drops on the table right next Ryan’s Coke.
‘Jesus,’ goes Ryan. ‘Get that out my fucking space. Fucking chimp.’
‘What?’ goes Travis.
Ryan gets a serviette and, all delicate like, picks up the bit chip, and Travis makes to get up out his chair but Ryan grabs him by the tit and shoves the chip up his neb, and Travis is ‘Ah fuck, ah fuck!’ and tipping back in his chair. The chair cannae take it, Travis is a big lad, eh, and a leg breaks under him and he’s couped out it on the floor.
Jed’s pissing himself.